The Parent Traps
by Virareve
Summary: What do you do when you find out you have something you never knew you had? When quiet, studious, foreigner Aya Hirano and extroverted, "future president" Hanna Tjinder meet at summer camp, they easily identify themselves as total opposites. Aya loves books and science, Hanna loves leading and law. They have nothing in common except...they're identical twins?
1. Chapter 1

**The Parent Traps**

**by Virareve**

"Hurry it up, Dad!" Hanna Tjinder anxiously urged her father from the passenger seat. Her grandpa could outbike her father at this rate, she thought. They would have left home earlier if he hadn't insisted on checking, double checking, and _triple checking _her luggage before she could even step out the door, then deciding to call his assistant to fetch the latest first-aid kit available for her, and making pit stops in the middle of nowhere. "We're going to be late and I don't want to get stuck in the worst cabin _again_!"

"Hanna, calm down," Baljeet Tjinder replied with an amused smile. "We're already going at the California speed limit. Don't expect me to go over it." His thirteen year old daughter pulled her head back from the windows and harrumphed in her seat. "I assure you that we will most certainly not be late this time. I took care to calculate our approximate arrival time, accounting for possible weather and traffic conditions…"

He stopped. His daughter was giggling. "Dad, has anyone ever told you what a nerd you are?"

Her father rolled his eyes. Only every day of his life. "A person or two might've mentioned it."

"Well, has anyone ever said that you're probably the smartest person to exist?" she asked playfully, in a way –much to Baljeet's dismay—that was very familiar.

Baljeet tightened his grip on the wheel, turning his face away from his daughter to allow himself a moment to recompose. "I'm sure I've heard it from a few people, but I'm not sure."

_It was always one person_, he added silently to himself.

Hanna was oblivious to this and she rolled her windows down, opting to stick her head out of the car window and watch the vineyards of Napa Valley speed by in a flash. From the corner of his eyes, Baljeet saw her long, straight, jet black hair blow in every direction. He wondered how she wasn't bothered by it in the least. The chaos of it all, the disorder all around her…he had never dealt with that sort of thing half as well as she did when he had been that age. Still, from all the people he knew, he could only distinctly remember one person who did. And once again, as much as he tried to prevent it, Baljeet was struck by the resemblance. _Hanna is clearly her daughter. She's too much like her._

_"Holy—_!"

Baljeet slammed on his breaks when a deer ran in front of his car. Shaking his head, he cautiously pressed the gas keeping his brown eyes on the winding road ahead. The final route to Camp, leading out of peaceful wine country, was a god-damned deathtrap. Of course, the brightly colored _Camp Rainbow Clear!_ Information packet never mentioned _that_. It would've been helpful to know, especially in the process of picking a camp for his thirteen year-old daughter (then eleven) to spend her summer at two years ago. If he had known he would have to drive to and from theplace at least twice a year, perhaps he would have revaluated the other summer programs he had looked over.

Hanna sighed. "Dad, pay attention, the deer was clearly visible at least forty feet from the road."

"Then perhaps you should have told me, Hanna…" Baljeet started in an irritated tone. Thinking about _her_ always put him in an off mood.

"Sorry," she apologized with a lifted eyebrow, her father's sudden turn of emotions surprised her. "I was just saying."

"And what have I told you about condescending comments?" he went on, as if it were routine.

"…That they're unnecessary?" Hanna answered, already done with the discussion they had had one too many times. It was like a dull, colorless, overplayed infomercial, one that, Hanna felt, did not pertain to her in the least. She was just making an observation. Just because her father was allergic to anything that put his undies in a twist didn't mean she had to be.

"Correct," Baljeet nodded, knowing he probably hadn't gotten through to his headstrong daughter but still hoping he had. After their three-day cross country drive, his black minivan finally) took a sharp left onto a worn-out dirt road, past the rainbow billboard with the camp's super girly name printed upon it.

"Yes!" Hanna jumped in her seat like a four-year-old on a sugar rush, straining her neck to stare out the window, willing her Dad to speed up so they could arrive all the more quickly. "We're here!" Baljeet gave a small chuckle at his daughter's avid enthusiasm. She really loved it here, and he knew it. Hanna was very picky about the things she cared for, but those things for she which she did, she loved with everything she had.

"Are you sure you're excited?," Baljeet joked. "Maybe I should turn around – " Immediately a dainty but powerful hand whacked his shoulder, followed by outright protest at his clearly light-hearted humor. "Hanna! I'm driving! What have I told you about -?"

"Physical violence is bad, yes. I know, _father_," she brushed her father's comment away. "Look, there's the parking lot! Go!" With a sigh, he signaled right and sailed smoothly into the parking lot, and then the parking space. The moment the car was parked, Hanna jumped out of the car. She already had one of her bags out of the trunk by the time Baljeet made his way out of the car to help her.

"I can tell you're really going to miss me," he joked, though part of him was a little hurt that Hanna was so eager to leave him for half the summer, even though he knew she didn't mean it that way.

"Hanna!" a brunette counselor approached them; one of many in the parking lot on duty to help campers carry their bags to their respective cabins. She was holding a clipboard.

"Sara!" Hanna greeted her excitedly, with a hug. "Do I have you as a counselor again this year?"

"Sadly, no," Sara said, trying to muster up a sad face, but Baljeet knew better. Last summer his daughter had run for Governor of the kids in the camp's poly-sci program, and from what he could read between the lines of her rendition of her experience was that she and her campaign committee had not only managed to entertain the whole group, but they had also managed to use enough camp materials to leave a major mess, and an additional bill in his mail for "unforeseen expenses." He could tell Sara was beyond relieved to not have to deal with his competitive, overly driven Hana these next several weeks. "You, my dear, are in…" she checked her clipboard. "Bunk 16A. With Maggie. Lucky girl." She made a subtle but noticeable face. "Need help with these bags?"

"Of course!" Hanna agreed. "I can't carry them all myself." Hanna handed Sara one of her two relatively heavy suitcases, taking a backpack and tote for herself.

"Hanna," Baljeet laughed. "Nice try. You can grab that suitcase too." Hanna rolled her eyes and agreed. Sara, content with the fact that she did not, in fact, have to make a second trip, headed in the direction of 16A.

"Well, I guess this is it," Hanna eventually said, turning to her dad. He smiled down at her.

"Looks like it, honey."

"Just so you know," she continued. "I'm going tomiss you a lot." Baljeet and her hugged goodbye knowing how important they were to each other. To Hanna's knowledge, he was all she had left of a family.

"Love you, Hanna," he said as they pulled apart. "Have a great time. You tell those kids how to run our economy."

Hanna smiled, the biggest summer of her life ahead of her. "Not just the economy, I'm totally ready to cover public safety, transportation, and health care this year. My platform's going to be even better. But…" She picked up her bag, "I love you more." and followed Sara. Baljeet watched her go, deep in thought.

"_I love you more_." The most familiar response of all. But what happens in the past, well, it stays the past.

Baljeet pushed his thoughts away with a shake of his head, got into his car, and made his way out of the parking lot. During his exit, he accidentally cut off another family in a black limousine trying to get in. Their driver, looking affronted, honked harshly at him until he passed through.

_Some people have no conduct_, he thought bitterly.

* * *

Akshaya "Aya" Hirano stared at the setting beyond her car window and tried not to be intimidated. It wasn't the camp itself – Camp Rainbow Clear was a picturesque sanctuary isolated from the society, its frame warm and welcoming – parents hugging their children goodbye, counselors welcoming their keep, and friends sharing smiles. No, it was what the camp meant that made her grip her seat. "It's only two months," she scolded herself, "you'll get to meet all the techs you tell mom about."

She didn't know _why_ she was so nervous to go inside. It wasn't as though her mom had forced her to go– far from it. It was she who begged to come here after hearing about the special program they had set up with a number of preeminent engineers and scientists. But something about how she had heard of the place still did not bode well to her. The fact that she had received an invitation to attend, all the way in Uruguay seemed suspicious, yet the camp was legitimate, and – as she soon found out – considerably prestigious.

"Some people have no class," Uruguayan Ambassador to the Unites States, Ginger Hirano frowned to her daughter, a quiet thirteen year old who sat across from her in the limousine given to her for her use. "Cars are practically all autopilot these days, and yet there are those who _still _cannot drive."

"Perhaps he didn't know you were trying to get in?" Aya suggested, fingering her long, black hair, her dark eyes, as always, intelligent and innocent behind thin glasses. She deeply pondered her upcoming first sleep-away camp experience, the pros and cons, for the fifth time in the car. It wasn't making the pit in her stomach any smaller though. Ginger nodded, her daughter always a voice of reason when she was not.

"True," she agreed, as she watched a black blob on wheels blur by. Her driver took the car and settled himself over three parking spots, much to the dismay of many annoyed, but curious parents. "He could have taken more care to look though." The car was put into park, and she stepped out gracefully, her daughter coming out carefully behind her. "Alright, honey, let's gather your things." The chauffer took Aya's five suitcases out of the trunk and onto the ground. Ginger patted her forehead with a handkerchief, surprised by the heat outside, pulled back her similar obsidian-colored hair hair, and smiled at Aya, thrown for a moment, as often happened, by how bright her daughter was. Holly always joked that she could smell her little girl's exceptional intellect from a mile away. Of course she knew where it came from, but goodness it was something unbelievable. "Are you excited or what?" Ginger smiled to her daughter.

_What_, Aya thought. "Being honest," she replied, holding her stomach. "I think I'm going to puke."

Ginger frowned. "Why makes you say that?"

"What if the other girls don't like me?" her daughter voiced her concern shakily. Mature for her age, and considered an outsider where she lived, she consistently had a difficult time relating to kids her own age. She didn't get invited to many parties, nor had she ever been away from home for more than a day, and that was with her aunt, the former president of Uruguay and one of the richest women alive. "What if they tease me? What if -?"

"Good morning, ladies!" A blonde-haired woman approached them, smiling broadly, holding a clipboard. She reminded ginger of one of those old gum commercials. She inwardly cringed. "I'm Maggie. Name, please?"

"This is Akshaya Hirano," Ginger announced proudly. "She's a new 'cleary'."

"But you can call me 'Aya.'" Aya smiled shyly.

"Awesome!" Maggie smiled and scanned her clipboard. "You're going to live in cabin 14A, with Sara. I'll help you with your bags!"

"Thank you," Aya said politely as Maggie picked up three of her five suitcases and headed towards the cabins in the distance. Once she was out of earshot, Ginger turned to Aya and put her hands on her shoulders gently.

"Don't forget, Akshaya ," she began, "You're a Hirano. No one ever makes trouble for one of us. Especially one as fantastic as you." She smiled at her pride and joy. "Now, Aunt Holly highly recommends this camp after some of my old friends' children came here a few years ago. It's an extraordinary place, and you're going to have an amazing time." Ginger did not know just how true this statement would be.

"Do you swear?" Aya asked, testing her mom. "Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"I swear," Ginger agreed, raising her hand up. "Cross my heart a thousand times over, as long as I don't have to die."

Aya beamed. "Then I believe you."

"That's my daughter!" Ginger pulled Aya into a tight hug. Once she released her, she went on to say, "I love you. Be good. Listen to your counselor. Leave the tech room for more than sleeping and eating, and no online coding or whatever it is you do with your computer after bed."

"Of course, Mom. I love you more." Ginger ruffled Aya's hair, and then watched as she picked up her last suitcases and hurried after Maggie.

_"I love you more…" _No. She refused to go there. Not then. Not now.

When Aya was out of sight, Ginger turned to her car and noticed the curious onlookers pulling out their phones to take a picture. "Robert, you can take me back the airport now."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for the positive responses to this story! I can't promise updates on scheduled dates, but I can promise that all stories I have marked incomplete ****_will _****be completed. On another note, please be patient with this story. Some of you have messaged me, wondering what will come up in our plot, but I promise that all will be revealed in due time! Big thanks to fidelisetespoireanoeldy, foobar 1337, HigherSilver, xsummerblues, Ryan Stoppable, and partner555 for reviewing, and thanks to all who are following, and/or favoriting this story. It means a lot that you're putting faith in my writing at this beginning point and I hope you'll enjoy this little adventure.**

**Buenos Noches! **

**Vira**

**PS-I do seriously take stock in what you write in the reviews, so if you choose to leave a one, know that I love to read your insights, questions, concerns, compliments, and scruples. :) **

* * *

Camp hadn't even officially started when Hanna got in trouble.

"Hanna!" an older, more authoritative voice reacted to the scene. "I believe it's an understood part of campaigning here at camp that you don't start _until_ you've officially signed up to enter the race."

"Well you might want to change the fine print in the handbook then." Hanna turned to Sara. "You never know," she suggested, "someone could misinterpret it and..."

A sigh. "I see you haven't changed much this past year."

Hanna shrugged. "I'm a senior camper now, don't you think I want the chance to win that D.C. trip and meet the president?"

Sara raised an eyebrow, "Isn't you father friends with him?"

Hanna shrugged, "We can catch up over tea."

* * *

"…and that's why I'll need _you_ guys to back me up. You'll win. I'll win. Everyone will be happy."

Hanna's cabin mates were mouth-opened, awestruck when she finished her persuasive spiel.

"Hello, Hanna," a younger woman stepped into the cabin. She gave a curious glance to her before smiling widely. "I'm Maggie, your counselor. I've heard so many interesting things about you!"

"Most people have," Hanna eyed her and skimmed around the room. Her eyes narrowed immediately. "Hold on a second, where are my bags?" She searched the room rapidly with her eyes.

"They're on your bed, honey!" Maggie pointed out brightly. "The bottom of that bunk bed by the—"

"What?" Hanna's voice rose in volume. "A bunk bed?" She scowled. "Where's the next cabin with an available single? _I_ can't—"

"You don't have to go," one of the other girls begged, "You can have my bed." She scrambled around off her single and tossed her items onto the lower part of the bunk bed.

Satisfied, Hanna casually grabbed one of her suitcases and rolled it in front of her new, more adequate sleeping area. She was all smiles again. "Thanks so much!"

"I'm in over my head," Maggie mumbled at the new worship-mania starting in her cabin. Then she brightened up again, for show. She clapped her hands twice. "Okay, 16A, it's time for the Welcome Bonfire! Grab a sweatshirt – it might get chilly tonight – and line up at the door!" Hanna asserted herself to the front of the line. The girl behind her tapped her on the shoulder. She was of mixed European descent, with brown, wavy hair and a mischievous smile.

"That speech?" she told Hanna, and smiled. "You'll be president before you're fifty."

Hanna nodded appreciatively. "Finally, someone who sees it my way!"

"Brown. Renie Brown."

Hanna smirked. She had found an equal. "Hanna Tjinder."

"Oh, I know," she said. "You're a legend at this camp. We were in separate bunks last year." They shook hands. Hanna smiled. Legend. She liked the sound of that.

"Well, Renie," she patted her fellow camper on the back. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

_"Do I have a mom?" The question was blunt. At age six, Hanna didn't beat around the bush; she demanded answers. She crossed her tiny arms and watched her father's reaction. His back was to her, focused on scans his assistants had sent him from the lab. He noticeably tensed up._

_"Of course," Baljeet finally answered. He had boxes of trinkets from Uruguay, a Fireside Girls Gold Award, and enough books to fulfill a law student's reading requirement to prove it._

_"Then bring her," Hanna demanded in her shrill, demanding, little girl voice. "Bring her to me."_

_Baljeet shook his head in both amusement and sadness. Heartbreak was a strange thing for him—a prolonged experience. For him, there was never that time where he moped for weeks to months to years. It just came and went, in twisted pangs from memories, from pictures, from random raven-haired women he passed in the streets, looking too little and too much like the one that got away._

_"Hanna, if your mom wanted to be here," he told his small daughter, "She would be."_

_Hanna would wait on her mother for years. Baljeet knew about the futile inquiries she would make to his parents and close friends, and it was only fortunate that they all seemed to respect his right to tell her in his own time. He heard the wishes she made on stars at night. He could see the jealousy and longing in her eyes on 'Bring Your Child to Work' day when the other little girls would follow their mothers around. Still, Hanna never spoke of it again, assuming her father wouldn't care if her mother ever returned._

* * *

"Now I'm going to get my campers settled in, but you'll be okay. Right sweetie?"

Aya nodded and thanked Maggie, pulling her bags behind her into Cabin 14A. Only to freeze when she opened the door.

Cabin 14A was deserted. _Oh God, am I the only person in this cabin?_ Her panic started to swell – _No, no, no, there are other suitcases along the wall. It looks like some have already been unpacked._ Laughter from somewhere outside implied that whoever was already here had left the bunk to spend some time in the fresh air and meet the rest of the campers. Even her counselor wasn't around, probably helping other newcomers with their luggage and sign-ins. _Alright, calm down, Akshaya. Everything's going to be okay._

Holding her bags, she scanned the room for an available bunk bed, only to discover that she was the last one to come, and there was only one left in the back right corner, on the top part of the bunk bed. Aya cringed. Ever since she was four, she had been stuck with an unmatchable fear of top bunks after the top bunk she had been about to sleep in at her Aunt Stacy's collapsed only moments before she intended to go to bed. It was a worrier's worst nightmare, and Aya was, without any doubt, a worrier.

Still, she knew she would never ask for a switch. She wanted these girls to accept her; it would only be fair that she accepting current conditions in return.

The first suitcase Aya tried to open, she found that the zipper was stuck. If Aunt Holly ever decided she was done with modeling. She could make a living out of closing suitcases that were way overly packed, just as hers had been. Aunt Holly called it the Bottocks Method, but what her godmother never seemed to realize was that the immense pressure from her behind could cause loads of future damage to the suitcase in question.

Aya tried again, pulling with all her might, but unlike her aunt, she had no hidden strength and was as weak as science nerds could be come by these days. Brains but no brawn. She sighed, swatting the stupid suitcases in defeated frustration.

"Need some help?" Aya jumped. She hadn't heard anyone come in. Turning around, she came face-to-face with a tall, dark-haired, green-eyed, friendly-looking Asian-Caucasian girl with a genuine smile plastered on her face.

"Um, yeah," she answered, focusing back on the suitcase. "It-it won't really open."

"Here, let me try," the other girl offered, pulling the suitcase towards her. She pulled a bottle of what looked like liquid soap out of her pocket and rubbed some on the zipper. Amazingly, the suitcase opened her first try.

"That was impressive," Aya pointed out. "Thank you."

"No prob," the girl said. "I'm Kate, by the way. Kate Takeshi." She held out her hand, and Aya took it. They shook.

"Akshaya Hirano, but everyone except my mom and my aunt just call me Aya," she replied. "Are you bunking here, too?"

"I am!" she said brightly.

"Great!"

"Do you want me to show you the ropes?" Katie continued. "This is my fifth summer here."

"Really?" Aya asked in disbelief. "Don't you ever miss your parents?"

"Well, my mom's a professional dancer for _Shall We Dance?_ in Japan, so she's never around when the shows in production," Katie shrugged. "As for my dad… well, he used to be a popstar and model…which is sort of how he met my mom…but he takes his shirt off. A lot. I guess he misses the underwear modeling days. It's nice to have a break." Aya made a point to laugh at her potential friend's joke, but still felt a little pang in her fragile heart. Of course she loved her mom dearly, more than girls her age usually did, but somehow she always felt like her mom didn't entirely understand her. What she would do to have a father for one day. Even one that took his shirt off regularly. "So how are you liking being a 'cleary' so far?"

"Oh, it's – "

A voice interrupted them from outside.

"Welcome fellow campers! My name is Hanna! I—"

"—am a bit aggressive and determined." Katie supplied with a role of her eyes. "Camp hasn't even started yet and she's already going at it. Girl seriously needs to learn how to relax. You watch out for her, she can be sweet when she wants to be, but if you get in the way of her and Point B, she'll take you _down._"

* * *

_"Do you know who my dad is?" A five year old Aya managed to squeak out on the day before Christmas. She'd been sitting on the floor going through her __Extreme Sudoku__ book, and her uncle, with earphones on, remained concentrated on stirring the soup on the stove, and writing sheet music on the notebook next to him. Her aunt, on the other hand, was sifting through a pile of letters on the kitchen table and paused at her niece's question._

_"Why do you ask, Akshaya?" Aunt Stacy tilted her head in question._

_She shrugged in her five-year-old way with hunched shoulders and pouted lips. "I dunno…"_

_"You don't know?" Aunt Stacy looked skeptical. "You're grammar always worsens when you have something to hide. Did something happen at school?"_

_Aya shook her head rapidly. _

_Her aunt raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"_

_She bit her lip._

_"Akshaya…" Aunt Stacy had placed her papers down now and was placing her whole attentions on her niece._

_She blurted out in a rush, "Am I adopted?"_

_"What?" If Aunt Stacy's tone was one of incredulity, then her face was one of downright confusion. "What would make you think that?"_

_"I don't look a lot like Mom or you, and I notice that everyone else looks like their parents."_

_"Five year olds aren't supposed to be asking these sorts of questions," her Aunt interjected with a weary shake of the head._

_"But am I?"_

_Aunt Stacy smiled, "Of course not. You're a perfect blend of both your parents."_

_"Am I?" What did her dad look like, she wondered. Was her straight hair his or Mom's? Was his skin darker too? Were her eyes more like his or Mom's? Did he like to build things too?_

_Aunt Stacy frowned in thought, "Well, you look like them both, but you're definitely a lot more like your father."_

_"And what's he like?" Aya leaned forward._

_Her aunt opened her mouth, and shut it quickly. Shaking her head she chuckled, "Oh no little girl. You better ask your mom about that."_

_"But—" _

_"No."_

_"She never—"_

_"_No_."_

_Aya crossed her arms, and looked out the window. Like last Christmas Eve, it was warm outside. What was it like, she'd always marveled, to wake up to snow on Christmas, instead? Like in her books, or the movies her uncle would show her when Mom and Aunt Stacy were cooped up in the office or receiving dignitaries. _

_Somewhere beyond the view from her room of the city, church bells chimed, letting her know that Christmas mass would be starting soon at the local cathedral. Aunt Stacy got up from the table and patted Aya on the shoulder, "I'm going to make some calls, but I'll be back soon and we can make cookies for Santa alright?"_

_Aya nodded. Her aunt picked up her phone and walked out of the kitchen, the door shutting behind her._

_ "He could've been a rock star if he tried."_

_Aya looked up to see her Uncle Coltrane bringing the soup ladle to his mouth._

_"Did you say something, Uncle Coltrane?" she asked, but the musician just sipped his soup, continuously tapping his feet to an unseen beat, oblivious to her._

_When she received no response, Aya laid back down on the floor to get back to her puzzles. _

_When she wasn't looking, her Uncle turned to watch her, remembering his most memorable student in all his musical glory. His music player had died long ago and he had heard everything. _

* * *

The Welcome Barbeque was really quite the sight for the young girls attending Camp Rainbow Clear. They had everything from traditional relay races and pie-eating contests to things of the more academic nature like "Who can build the fastest high-speed computer in ten minutes?" to counselor-moderated debates, all of those festivities leading up to campfire sing-a-longs and s'mores.

Aya, Kate and three other girls from 14A named Brianna, Joanne, and Rjiang were happily making their rounds, each girl holding either a self-made Sunday or popcorn. She and Kate had kicked major behind in the music and dance competition, thanks to Aya's ability to make a good beat in under three minutes (_Thanks, Uncle Coltrane!),_ and Kate's smooth dance moves. The exact opposite happened during the three-legged race; Aya's lack of grace led to them failing miserably and toppling over each other, but Aya couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. Her cerebral brain was riding high on the excitement. Was this what it was like to have friends?

"Hey, check it out!" Brianna exclaimed, pointing her manicured finger towards the pie-eating contest table, surrounded by a gigantic crowd of kids. The four girls ambled over to see what was going on.

Behind a portable bar counter table sat Hanna, though Aya wouldn't know. She was far too distanced from the table to get a proper view, and anyway, right then she only knew Hanna by her loud voice and forward actions.

Hanna's licked the corners of her mouth daintily with a napkin, various plates and bowls beside her, a triumphant, confident smirk on her face from what had just been her fifth victory in the past hour. "Anyone else want to give it a go?" she dared the crowd to challenge her. Nobody looked too eager, instead trying to egg each other to be the one to take the fall. "Any takers? I swear, one more is all it will take for me to crack. Who ever can make a dish spicy enough to make me crack breaks my near_ three-year_ stint as the camper who eat the spiciest foods!"

Aya, she was never the impulsive one. Ever. But she was one-quarter Hispanic, consequently, knew how to make dishes that made even her aunt's stomach curdle. She was already enjoying her time here so much; why not take the risk? Make a name for herself?

Before she could think it all the way through, she shot her hand into the air. "I would like to try!" In an instant, the crowd fell into a shocked silence. All eyes were on her. Immediately uncomfortable and regretting her decision, Aya awkwardly lowered her hand.

"Aya," Kate whispered to her abruptly. "You just challenged _Hanna Tjinder_." Aya's stomach dropped to the floor. Alarms rang in her head. _No! No! I'm going to die! I'm too young to die! _Her fight or flight senses kicked in, and, quite unlike the Hirano her mom said she was, she chose flight. Or at least, she tried to.

"Aw, are you scared, _newbie_?" Hanna asked with fake concern. That stopped Aya dead in her tracks. Everyone continued to stare at her. She didn't want her fellow campers to think she was a coward.

"N-no," Aya responded. Hanna rolled her eyes. This was going to be cake.

"Then prove it!" Slowly, Aya made her way up to where Hanna stood, trying not to look as terrified as she felt. A handful of campers clapped encouragingly.

"Nice try, new kid," she heard the other girl snicker as she passed her on the stage to the outdoor kitchen that was set up for the event.

Sara set a small, computerized refrigerator in front of Aya.

"You have twelve minutes to prepare a meal. Any food you need, type it into the keypad here," she explained, "We take no stock in presentation or preparation, but anything used that is hazardous, live, human, or not edible will disqualify you. Luckily, your taster has no allergies so any ingredient you choose is up to your digression."

Aya nodded.

Knowing better than to start off the contest looking disadvantaged, Hanna grabbed a towel from under the table and wiped the remnants of her last battle off her face. Simultaneously, Aya tied her hair up and removed her glasses, setting them aside from the war zone.

And all at once, the Camp Rainbow Clear community gasped.

"What?" Hanna demanded, her eyes suspicious. Silence. Gaping. "Why are you all staring standing there like penguins in the tropics?"

"Penguins don't live in the tropics," Aya pointed out meekly. "Unless, they, um, are living in an insulated zoo area." Too preoccupied with the campers' overly shocked faces, Hanna ignored Aya entirely. Everyone started whispering, pointing. More campers and even some counselors headed over to see what the commotion was about.

"Somebody tell me what's going on!" Hanna insisted with a stomp. She targeted a ten year-old close to the front of the crowd. "You! What're you staring at?"

"Nuffing!" she responded quickly.

"Doesn't look like 'nothing,'" Hanna pointed out.

"It's just…" the little girl trailed off, staring at her toes. "You guys look _exactly_ the same." She seemed to echo the thoughts of everybody else, because they all nodded in agreement.

"Seriously," Kate piped up. "As long as Aya keeps the glasses off, you guys could be the exact same person." A few other 14A and 16a girls spewed out a chorus of 'yeahs.'

Slowly and disbelievingly, Hanna and Aya turned towards each other. And screamed so loud that everything around them seemed to shake.

"Oh my god, who are you? A clone or something?" Hanna yelled, her heart pounding. "Is this a joke?"

"I'm – I'm – no," Aya stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence for this girl appeared to be _her_. This was just uncanny. She had to be dreaming. Or delusional. Maybe she had a bad breakfast. Or ten thousand bad breakfasts. Or she was coming down with a fever or salmonella or something. "I don't even like salmon or anything, I swear!"

"What the heck is _that_ supposed to mean?" Hanna snapped at her look-alike. She breathed in, then out. Not even this weird clone girl was going to rob her of her No-Such-Thing-as-Spicy-Food Contest reputation. "Whatever. Start the countdown!" Nobody wanted to. They were too distracted by how alike the two girls appeared. Even the counselors wouldn't step up. "Hello? We've got a contest, remember?"

"Let's just do it ourselves," Aya said, everyone else was preoccupied.

"Fine," Hanna muttered grabbing the stopwatch off the table in front of. She entered a ready position. "I'll cite you in…

"Five, four, three, two…" Aya tapped the keypad of the refrigerator like a pro. 14A cheered enthusiastically for Aya, while all the members of 13B screamed and yelled for Hanna who observed her opponent carefully. Everyone watched with bated breath as Aya pulled food out of the fridge little by little. They couldn't see much of what she was doing, aside from her pulling the knife across the cutting board with careful precision and dropping some sort of odd food here and there. It was quiet game Aya was playing, wholly focused on her creation and the audience realized they would have to wait until she finished her food to know what it was.

* * *

_Five minutes._

"Kimchi?" Hanna hid her chuckle behind her hand, keeping it loud enough for Aya to hear. "Is that really all you've got? Maybe you should skip out on the rice there to give me more of a challenge."

Aya kept her eyes on her food, the sauce in her hands almost mixed. She could do this.

* * *

_"Time!" _Hanna called out as a shrill ring emitted from the stopwatch in her hand. She held the timepiece up for the crowd and turned to her contender. "Ready, Ms….?"

"Hirano," Aya filled in with smile, "Here you go." She offered Hanna a small bowl of rice with a red concoction atop it, "It's not kimchi, but I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised.'

Hanna gobbled her dish down in less than a minute. Ready to claim yet another wonderful victory, she lifted her head up from the plate she'd licked clean, only to—

She started coughing, feeling the blood rushing from her face. "What did you…" Oh god, it felt like something was pulling her face off from the inside. The pain. It hurt so bad. She couldn't remember anything this hot since the time her dad first fed her curry.

"Here." Hanna looked up to see Aya meekly holding out a glass of milk to her. "It'll alleviate the sambal's burn."

Quickly, she took the glass, gulping it down as if she had been dying of thirst. The intensity immediately began to die down, but the slight buzzing ache of the burn remained.

As it died down, Hanna recognized another sound, she turned her head from the cup in her hand to see Aya facing the audience, giving everybody a sheepish, half-smile that made Hanna want to stomp on her toes or something. Everyone cheered. Aya's bunkmates ran over to hug her and high-five her.

_How __**dare**__ she! Who does she think she is?_ Renie patted Hanna on the back sympathetically, which really only made things worse. Most of the girls her age were gathered around Aya now, congratulating her.

"Wow, nice work, Aya!"

"What was that?"

"That was awesome!"

"Well my aunt used to have an Indonesian cook—"

"Looks like Tjinder's got some competition!"

Hanna's blood boiled at Aya's stupid, proud face. That should be _her_, sporting a stupid, proud face! _Her_! She tapped Aya rudely on the shoulder, ungluing her from the praise.

"Congratulations," Hanna said with a smirk.

"Oh, thanks!" Aya responded so sweetly and surprised it made Hanna sick. "It was a really close call."

"Not that," Hanna said coldly. Aya's smiles faltered. "I'm congratulating on you making it to the top of my _List_. And just so you know," She leaned in real close, their dark eyes mirroring each other's. "It's not a good place to be. Better watch your back." With that, Hanna made her exit, leaving Aya shaking in her sneakers.

"Definitely your evil twin," Kate remarked, shaking her head.

"Yeah," Aya watched her similar-faced nemesis strut away. She couldn't help but notice that she acted a lot like her mom did whenever she was around people she didn't like. "Definitely."

* * *

"Ginger!" Holly Ruth greeted her old friend cheerfully. Ginger found an undeniable comfort in hearing Holly's voice. It was proof that stability still existed in her life. "I'm so glad you called, it's been so long!" Six months, if you wanted to be precise. And Ginger, she couldn't help but be precise when it came to dates. "How have you been?" She sounded a bit tired, but that, Ginger assumed, was expected when you were an international supermodel with a busy schedule.

"Fine," she replied, her cell on speaker, buried beneath a pile of papers, as she sat at the desk of her study, looking through old folders for some subject matter she wanted to use at her upcoming lecture with a local University. "It's even quieter without Akshaya around. At least I'd hear the sounds of typing or papers once in a while, but now it's just me and the big, wide silence."

Holly laughed. "I'm assuming you took my advice and sent her to Rainbow Clear then?"

"Uh huh…"_ I could have sworn I put the drafts in here…Shoot, I think I'm missing some things_…Irritated that she was missing some sentimentally valuable papers, Ginger gave up and walked over to her window, looking out at the other townhomes that lined Embassy Row, hoping the sight and Holly could distract her.

"She's going to love it there," Holly asserted, "My friends' kids who went had a blast."

"I remember you mentioning it." Ginger sighed, leaning her head against the cool glass. "Honestly, Holly? I'm kind of worried about her."

She could just imagine her friend's concerned face. It never changed. "Why? Did something happen?"

"It's…I…" Her eyes moved to a facedown picture frame she had brought with her from Montevideo that sat on the bookshelf. She couldn't bring herself to put it up in the last twelve years. "I feel like I'm the only one who was there to offer her any guidance growing up, and I think she…she never really learned how to fit it in." It sounded stupid, but it was the only way she knew how to phrase it.

"Ging—"

"No, you're right," Ginger cut in. "She's too much like her father, and I couldn't quite figure out how to help her get along with others. I mean, he had Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, and even Buford there for him, but look at her. She keeps to herself—she never got along with her classmates in Uruguay and I can tell her classmates don't accept her here. And with a lack of suitable friendships, she's becoming increasingly shyer. She's an incredible girl, so, so _bright_. I'm afraid that with the way she's becoming more drawn in, people won't recognize what a treasure she is. You know what an extremely extroverted world our society is becoming, I'm afraid it's going to draw her _in_ instead of bring her _out_."

"She is somewhat quiet," Holly gently agreed. Ginger knew she had a soft spot for her "niece." "But I'm pretty sure you're overthinking it. She'll open up more, it's just a phase. Sooner or later she's going to mature and you're going to be trying to make her _less _social."

Ginger smiled, a comfortable silence hovering on both ends of the phone. Then, before she could stop herself, a question rushed awkwardly out of her mouth. "How's Baljeet?" _Thud. _There it was. Out in the open.

"Oh, honey," Holly sighed sadly. "I really don't think this is something I should be talking to you—"

"I just want to know how he's doing," Ginger insisted, her answer automatic, as if it was rehearsed. "Honestly, Holly, it's been almost thirteen years. I'm over it." Holly didn't say anything for a while, and Ginger was afraid that perhaps she would hang up.

"Baljeet's well," Holly answered finally, her voice terse.

"And Hanna?"

"She's fine too."

"Good," Ginger breathed, a lump was forming in her throat. "That's really good." Whoever invented separation was the _worst_, she mused.

"I think it's time you tried meeting guys," Holly suggested softly. "I've got this really good-looking friend, Abe. He works at a firm in Arlington, not more than half an hour away from you. Want his number?"

Ginger inhaled deeply, sliding down the window onto the sill. She scanned the empty room, one of many in this big, old empty house, and her eyes fell on that ever-present photo that she could never manage to throw away. It was him. Yet, she could never manage to look at it. Perhaps, Holly was right. Maybe it was time to move on.

"I don't have a pen right now, but could you text it to me?"


End file.
